


Rainy Day Love

by BlueOnyx



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park III (2001)
Genre: Anal Sex, At least not much plot, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, but plenty of rain and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 01:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueOnyx/pseuds/BlueOnyx
Summary: Three years had made all the difference in how Billy spent rainy days at the dig.





	Rainy Day Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Rainy Day People by Gordon Lightfoot.

 

It was the third day of a large storm, one that seemed to have settled around Fort Peck Lake and stubbornly refused to move on. Around noon on the second day there had been a brief respite, but at that point the ground was so thoroughly saturated, the idea of getting out to do anything around the dig or camp was laughable.

Tarps could only do so much to preserve their progress, and some spots had to be temporarily re-covered with loose soil to protect them. Billy knew there would be more than a few pits that would need bailing out when it was all over and a few days to dry before they could really get back into digging.

It hadn't rained this solidly for this long in all the time Billy had been digging at Hell Creek. Even Alan, surveying his waterlogged domain as he stood under the trailer's canopy at the end of the second day, said he'd never seen it get quite like this.

But it was now a cool, dark Friday afternoon and everyone had accepted their fate, getting settled in for another night of it—hopefully the last. Some of the roar quieted down, and Billy stuck a finger between the blinds of the window next to the dining booth. The rain was now just a determined patter, but Billy grimaced at the size of the puddles it was falling into. Almost completely erased were the muddy tracks made on the first day when a few of the students had dragged their tents up to higher ground to avoid the worst of the forming puddles.

Billy turned away from the window. "No way the road is going to be passable, for like, a week. . .  well, at least until Tuesday. If it stops anytime soon."

Alan didn't look up from his papers. "Nope," he agreed.

"No dinner trip tomorrow, then. The kids are gonna go crazy."

"There's plenty of food around, I think they'll survive."

Billy shrugged. "Sure, if they don't kill each other first."

Cutting through the patter was a young woman's delighted shriek, one Billy figured was probably brought about by a late-stage progression of strip poker.

He knew what they were up to, because he'd once taken part in that same tradition, sitting cross legged on the floor in one of the larger sleeping tents with as many students as they could cram in there, stale and humid air suffocating them in the breaths between their own laughter. It wasn't all poker, of course, but there were only so many dirty stories to share and rounds of Truth or Dare to occupy time with before the ante would inevitably be upped.

Three years had made all the difference in how Billy spent rainy days at the dig. Time brought with it responsibility and a position of authority, and a natural separation from what the other students, both the undergrads and beginning graduate students, did in their unsupervised moments. He was no longer really  _one of the guys_ , which was fine by him.

During the first real rain of his second summer, Alan had pulled him away from the rest of the pack to help out in the cataloging tent along with a few other lucky ones, making use of his ability and proclivity to handle a camera, but by the next storm Billy was put in charge of that operation so Alan could be free to do paperwork in his trailer. And it wasn't long after when Billy had convinced Alan to let him help in there instead, where it became their own small tradition when they got rained out. So it had been a gradual thing, ending up as the one person with enough of a reason to be cooped up with Dr. Grant for days on end without anyone blinking an eye.

Billy especially didn't have to worry about curious looks in this instance; no one would be paying much attention to what goes on in Dr. Grant's trailer when they're all zipped up in their tents distracting each other. Any stray moan or thud to escape the thin walls was bound to be lost in the noise of the storm.

All moans and thuds were theoretical for the time being, of course, because Alan was still scratching away with his pen. Billy had already given up on his own stack for the day, whether out of boredom or disgust, he couldn't be sure. There wasn't much left, a few equipment transfer requests and some number crunching for their diminishing budget, but he decided to leave it for later.

Alan shook his head slowly in the wake of the girl's shriek. "I just hope they all have enough sense to stay away from the canned beans this year," he said solemnly, as if they would undoubtedly be attending the funeral of anyone who committed that mistake again.

"Oh my god, Alan." Billy snorted—then the snort turned into a chortle, then cackles, and then into full blown laughter that only petered out with a few quiet howls when he was laying across the booth, his head hanging upside down off the edge. He sat up again, wiping away tears. "Well, if the older ones can't pass down their experiences to the younger ones, then what are they even good for?"

Alan, who'd stopped his pen when Billy had broken into his fit, now looked up at him. "I don't know, Billy, what  _are_  they good for?"

Billy met his eyes and lowered his voice. "I could tell you what  _you're_  good for, Alan, whenever you decide that paperwork isn't doing it for you anymore."

His gaze smoldered a little, but then returned to his papers.

Billy sighed. He knew what Alan was doing, but he wasn't in the mood for any kind of begging, so he changed the subject back to the weather. He took another peek through the blinds. "It's lightening up some. You think it's clearing out?"

"Nope."

For a moment, Billy entertained the idea of Alan making a career change to a weatherman, or a psychic, because right after he spoke, a fresh round of heavy rain began to roar over their heads. Instinctively, his ears strained to hear any possible leaks, but Alan took good care of his trailer and it was as waterproof as ever.

It was Alan's turn to sigh, and he finally,  _finally_  put down his pen. His rough hands reached across the table and captured Billy's face, pulling it forward enough to meet his in a kiss, quick but intense. "Okay, you, come and tell me what I'm good for."

Billy didn't need any more encouragement, his lips tingling a little from the kiss and the familiar sensation kicking up already. He was out of the booth and stepping through the narrow hallway in the middle of the trailer by the time Alan made a move to follow.

The sheets were soft and cool as they hit his back. He felt a less than ideal combination of lazy, sleepy, pushy—but ultimately horny, the latter winning out but not unaffected by the rest. Billy spread out as he watched Alan turn off the kitchenette light and come towards him, and decided he wanted to be taken care of.

Alan stood looking down at him, his fists on his hips. He raised his eyebrows. "Well?"

Billy paused a second, stared at the ceiling, and cracked a smile. "Dr. Grant, I think you're good for. . .  taking my socks off." Although still underdressed by typical Friday afternoon standards, in loose sweatpants and his sleeping shirt, the linoleum floor was a little too cold to be going around with bare feet.

Alan smirked, pinching at the toes and pulling them off. "Is that all?"

"Nah, there's lots more. You're pretty good at getting me out of my pants, right?"

"If the past is any indicator, yes." He complied, and got an eyeful of Billy's half-hard erection, now exposed. "Commando?"

"What good is a rainy day if you can't go commando, Alan?"

"Mm-hmm." He gave the sweatpants a quick fold at the knees and tossed them into the nearby chair. "And now?"

Billy held out his thumbs and index fingers at right angles, framing Alan's figure. "I think you're good for. . . standing there  _naked_."

Alan undressed, a little too slowly for Billy's taste, taking his sweet time unbuttoning his flannel shirt. But it got Billy harder. Alan noticed and took even longer with the rest.

He couldn't help it—Billy let his hand wander down to his cock and began to stroke himself steadily. He could get off like this, he felt great and it was more than enough to just lay back and watch Alan. But then Alan's boxers slid down and off, and he _was_ standing there naked, cock hard at attention and a hungry look boring into Billy's eyes. Billy abandoned his jerking to wrestle out of his own shirt. Yeah, he'd much rather have Alan's cock in his ass.

Alan leaned down over the small space, anchoring his hands on either side of Billy's hips. He ducked his head and Billy drew a sharp breath in anticipation, but Alan's tongue landed just above the base of his cock and slowly trailed upwards, over his stomach, pausing to flick at each nipple before continuing up Billy's neck and then running it along the shell of Billy's left ear. "Anything else?"

Billy shivered and spread his legs further apart. "Fuck me."

"Oh?" Alan bucked his hips downward to lightly drag the tip of his cock along the crack of Billy's ass, leaving a wet streak of precome that Billy could feel on his cheeks. "Am I good for that?"

Alan adjusted his weight to one hand, freeing his other to grip his own cock and trace it back down, almost using enough pressure to push against Billy's hole.

"Ah—h—" Billy took a shaky breath and swallowed hard and replied, "You're really, _really_ good for that."

"Glad to hear it." He felt Alan's fingers take over, a soft circling around his rim, only teasing because Alan hadn't even grabbed the lube yet.

Alan kissed the inner side of Billy's knee, brushing his lips up his thigh, then mirrored the motion on the other side before swiping his tongue along the underside of Billy's cock. He wrapped his lips around the leaking tip and Billy closed his eyes as he felt him lick and suck, deliberately and intently, but the heat and pull were gone too quickly. Alan rose up from him. It was just as well, since Billy was way too close to coming already.

The lube was on top of the dresser within arm's reach, so it was almost effortless for Alan to grab it. He motioned Billy to scoot further onto the bed, and once he did, Alan knelt in front of him.

Billy almost told him to hurry up, his impatience growing and his cock throbbing, but knew it would just make Alan do the opposite. Instead, he took the lube from Alan and helped him slick up his fingers and guide them to his entrance, feeling them slip in, one, then two, then three, still easy enough from their round early that morning, and then some onto his own fingers to cover Alan's cock.

He lingered on it longer than he'd intended to, stroking thoroughly, savoring how hard and thick it was and how Alan bucked into his touch. "Alan, your cock is so good." He wanted to taste him now, and would've been tempted to take him into his mouth if it weren't so slicked up already.

Alan finally pulled his hand away and pinned his wrist down onto the bed.  "It'll be even better inside your ass," he whispered playfully.

Billy grinned. "You're damn right it will."

He hooked his feet around Alan's middle to draw his hips closer. Alan stared into his eyes, keeping his gaze steady as he pushed his cock in. Billy raised his hips to bring him in as deep as he could, and dropped his head back onto a pillow with a relieved sigh at the full and stretched feeling. God, how he loved rainy days.

Alan leaned in closer with a soft moan and the hand on Billy's wrist slid up to grasp his own, threading their fingers together. He eased his cock back out slowly and thrust in hard, his lips against Billy's neck as he breathed deeply and placed a light kiss there. "And you take me so beautifully." He thrust again. "Billy."

Alan set into a leisurely pace, a hint of a smile on his face as if he knew just what he was doing to Billy, what it meant to him to have Alan buried deep inside of him, his heat pushing him open and building him up more and more with every thrust.

Alan's fingers slipped out of his hand and went searching over his body, for something else. They traced down his abdomen, then brushed near his cock, but went further and clasped his thigh, fingers digging in. He used the leverage to quicken his pace, drawing shallow breaths and taking everything Billy was giving him.

It was getting hard to think about anything but the way Alan was pounding into him with the head of his cock gliding against his prostate, the desperate noises coming out of his own throat, how his own cock was heavy on his belly, aching and untouched.

Alan was leaning in so close, an insistent pace and he was getting _greedy_ , and Billy felt himself get pushed back into his pillow. His stomach fluttered, he loved it when a deeper part of Alan rose up and took hold, unrestrained by overthinking, that feverish need that was fascinating to see. And  _hot_ —he could have grabbed his cock and come already if he let himself go, but he didn't want to yet. It was a nice afternoon and he wanted this to last a little longer.

Then Billy was pushed back even further, and his head knocked against the wall underneath the window—not hard, he wasn't hurt—but the position had become uncomfortable, with his neck bent and his shoulders strained.

He hauled himself up and Alan's cock slipped out of him and he tried to flip them both over, but they became a tangle of legs and arms before ending up on their sides in the bed, facing each other.

Billy burst into laughter, and then Alan did, too, a soft chuckle and a look of pure joy that was hard to coax out of him even at the best of times. Maybe it happened more often back then, before Isla Nublar, but that was before Billy knew him. He was grateful to see a glimpse of Alan like this, grateful that he was the one who could draw it out of him.

A moment passed between them, they were still breathing heavily but a clarity had set in. Alan's eyes were sharper and he looked into Billy's, and reached his hand to gently stroke his fingers through Billy's hair where his head had touched the wall. "Sorry."

Alan looked a little sheepish, but Billy didn't care. He just wanted Alan back inside him. "It's okay."

Billy gave himself a few strokes, still mostly hard, and then nudged Alan onto his back and straddled him.

Alan's lips twisted up in a dry smile as he settled his hands onto Billy's waist. "And here I thought you were going to let me do all the work."

"That _was_ my plan, yeah." The laziness had cleared up, and he had other ideas. "But now I'm not."

Billy leaned forward and pressed his lips to Alan's clavicle, brushing them up his throat and along his chin until he reached his lips, licked a line across them and then slipped his tongue in when Alan parted them. They kissed deeply, and by the time their breathing grew ragged again, Billy's cock was back to full hardness. Grinding his ass down against Alan's cock told him that his was, too, and Billy reached behind to line himself up.

He sank slowly down onto it, taking it in all the way, then raised himself back up just as slowly, clenching around Alan's thick cock as it slid along his tight heat. When Billy sank down again, Alan arched up, trying to go deeper, his eyes shut and his head pressing back into the pillow, chin tilted and neck exposed. A few more strokes up and down and he was practically writhing beneath Billy, looking vulnerable and overwhelmed.

"Christ, Alan. Look at you."

He grasped at Alan's arms, running his hands up to feel Alan's hold on his waist. He shut his eyes, lost in it, but struggled to keep them closed, and he caught the flashes of the room—the cool overcast through the blinds, the mussed bedsheets, Alan under him now gazing back up with _that_ look, the look that Billy _felt_  in him when he pressed his eyes shut again, holding onto the vision while he basked in that feeling and heard the noises, the rhythm of his movements, Alan's soft grunting and panting, and his own voice as he granted himself a small moan into the stifled space. He tried to keep it down, but as he rode Alan closer and closer to the edge, he couldn't help the longer and louder one that escaped him. This, the way Alan could make him feel, like it was exactly where Billy was supposed to be, like the world couldn't be more right, it was _this_. It was just them, connected, in that moment, but the moment stretched to seem like always, a thread woven into him at his very core. Just him and Alan. Alan. Alan. _Alan_. A few more strokes had him seizing his own cock and coming hard, and not caring enough to stop from crying Alan's name out loud.

His come streaked over Alan's chest, Alan watching it land while bucking up into him as hard as he could. "Yeah. Billy. Yeah." Alan came in him then, spilling heat into him as Billy worked him through his high, dragging the aftershocks out of him.

Billy collapsed down onto Alan's chest, resting his nose in the crook of Alan's neck.

"Well?" Alan prompted.

Billy let out a sigh, his breath slowing back down. "Well, Alan, you're really good at turning me into a good and fucked _mess_."

Alan laughed. "Speaking of—"

"Yeah, got it." Billy reached to the top of the dresser for tissues, and wiped them both up.

He settled down against Alan's side, pulling a token amount of sheets over their legs for now.

The air was getting stuffy and used, and if it weren't for the cool that the storm brought, the insidious humidity would have been choking them. Above and all around them, the rain pounded down harder than ever. It wasn't stopping anytime soon.

Alan lifted up a sliver of the blinds over the windows next to the bed and tried to peer through. "God, what is this, Seattle?"

After a minute of laying down and breathing quietly, Billy decided to pull the chord of the nearest blinds up an inch and turn the lever on the window to open it a crack.

"What are you doing?" Alan mumbled, starting to fall asleep.

"Shh," Billy hushed, throwing the rest of the covers over them. The sound of the rain was sharp and filled the trailer, an ambassador of nature invited into their intimate space. It was dozy and sweet, and everything about that moment was perfect. "Just listen. And hold me."

Alan slid his arm around Billy's back and stroked his thumb against his skin. "Is that another thing I'm good for?"

"Yes, it is, Dr. Grant."

Alan pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Then I'll do my best, Mr. Brennan."

 

**______________**

 


End file.
